Making it to the top of the top end.

Blacktress' Log, Thursday, 19 March 2009.

Greetings from Darwin!!

The last week has been crazy and awesome, full of randomness and excessive heat--temperature-wise, I mean.

After 6 days in the Outback, our group partied it up in Alice Springs, which is a pretty boring town. If it wasn't for Bojangles pub and the bottle of wine I'd treated myself to, I don't know how I would have gotten through it. Tuesday I was a hot ass mess, and I awoke to find myself being spooned by my Outback tour guide, a ruddy Aussie man who goes by the nickname 'Jesus.'

I guess you could say I woke up in Jesus's arms.

It was odd and random. Not only because Jesus had three beds in his room and there was no need for us to share a space, but because Jesus is betrothed. Nothing happened, and it was very PG--although his touch was surprisingly tender and he held me all night, which I don't know if I'd want my future husband doing with a nubian princess such as myself. There was no weirdness in the morning, thank god/his dad. This wouldn't be the first time I'd won the affections of a taken man.

I spent much of Tuesday nursing my hot mess of a hangover, hydrating and doing tons of writing. My flight out of town was Wednesday arvo, so I woke up bright and early, showered, de-sketchified, and headed off into the bright sun to see what Alice had to offer. It's quite a small city, and the main attractions are walkable enough.

So, you guys know how I'm really into reptiles, right? This means that the Alice Springs Reptile Centre was my first stop. As I walked through the exhibition, loving the cold-blooded creatures, I took note of all the venomous ones, should I come across them along my travels. As I walked through one section, I noticed this Olive Python was eye-fucking the shit out of me from inside its cage. It was really weird--totally one of those moments where I wish I could speak Parseltongue and figure out what the hell was going on.

In addition to its reptiles, I greatly appreciated the Centre's air conditioning, and just took my time reading placards and cooling off. While admiring a dinosaur fossil (yes, admiring), I was alerted to an animal presentation starting up. Suh-weet.

Maureen, our lovely presenter, showed us all sorts of creatures that we were then allowed to HOLD. I totally elbowed children out of the way and held a blue-tongued lizard, a horny devil (yes, a horny devil), and the Python who was staring at me. It was totally cool--I seem to have lost all fear since my journey into the outback. I was a bit wary of the massive snake, but he just slithered and it was all good....for a while.

As I went to hand it back to Maureen, it began to constrict around my hand.

My life flashed before my eyes. I totally knew there was a reason it was staring at me before--it was sizing me up for the kill. Being a constrictor, it's grip was deadly and I struggled to squeeze my hand out without making a scene that would scare the children. "Umm........" I said sorta loudly. Maureen told me to stay calm and or force the snake off, as it would feel threatened. I wriggled my hand out sloooooowwwwwllllly, and managed to break free--you can't put shackles on this blacktress, reptilian or otherwise!!!

Escaping death, I headed off to a couple other sights then went to the airport. There, I ran into this cool chick who I'd met in Sydney through a friend a couple months back. She's from Hotlanta and is totally a strong black woman in a white woman's body. We discovered we were seated in the same row--22A and C. We joked about talking over whoever was in between us.

When we got to our seats, we saw there were only seats A and C together. Talk about meant to be! We were obvi fated to be together, and spent three hours talking about dudes, travel, and fun times ahead. Her hostel was down the road from mine, and we met up and went out on the town last night. We landed at 7pm and it was still 90 degrees and humid out. Hot mess.

Darwin wasn't exactly popping on a Wednesday, and we went to the one hot spot, The Vic. The cover band was rocking ('Save Tonight,' by Eagle Eye Cherry, anyone?), and with $3 tequila shots, you know we'd basically gotten ourselves two tickets to the Shit Show. We ended up meeting some Canadian dudes, one of whom was 21 and tried to flirt with me. He was outgoing, had a full beard, and totally seemed older than me until he revealed that his age. I mean, wtf, Canadians--why must you always trick me?! He's from Sasketchawan, where I guess all the men are part Yeti and born rugged. I explained to him that, "I can't do anything with 21," and he got annoyed. Me and my new bff left The Vic at about 1am, chanting our new motto:

Darwin. My town. Love it.

Bad, Bad Blacktress!

I am a terrible abolitionist.

I know it's 4 days into Black History Month and I haven't posted a damn thing. You've probably been sitting at your computers, waiting on my hard-hitting thesis on black culture in our new Obama age. Or maybe you were hoping for an interview with Eli Whitney, inventor of the cotton gin, asking him why the hell he had to go f shit up and make slavery fun for people.
Unfortunately, Eli wouldn't return my calls.

Even more unfortunately, not a soul in good ol' Sydney town knows what Black History Month is, so it's not like there are any TV specials or kids with school assignments asking me what it means to be black, like me. Or, for that matter, anyone sitting around reading the book "Black Like Me" (educate yourself to this reality). This, coupled with the 80-degree February weather has me all confused and forgetful. The most black-related things I've gotten is a series of puns from a music producer friend of mine. They include:

blacklash (we all know i've been there)
blaccent
blackground check
blaccident--"for when daddy forgot to strap up." I'm not sure what that's supposed to mean.

Clearly I'm lacking and slacking. However, I do enjoy using the phrase, "You can't blackmail this black male!" when faced with opposition.

Luckily, the Persian Excursion is on the case, repping a different unsung black hero every day of BHM. Check it out here.

To be fair, I've been partially behind cause I was wrapped up in my redheaded lover, who landed in New York City mere hours ago (Nothing like some white folks to make you forget all about your month of empowerment ;). Since his departure there has been crying on my part--for more info, see the next post.


Oh, and this is random, but I thought I should share:

The resemblance is too uncanny. Homegirl is part cray cray AND part muppet!

Confusion

I'd like to bring your attention to the following email, which was waiting in my inbox when I returned home from my date with the Photographer last night (which did NOT go well, by the way--I think he found me about as interesting as an SAT textbook...I don't think he'll call. But, if he happens to read this, he SHOULD call, and I'll bake him a granny Smith apple pie).

This email comes from a man who I've referred to as "cum-face." Um....that's all you need to know. We went on two dates back in September, and that was the end of that. As you know, I never put a guy's number in my cell phone until he deserves it, so the process of erasing was pretty easy with this one--though the nickname he earned left me traumatized.

Anyway, I get this email from him in my alias account. As you read, keep in mind two things:
1. I never gave him either of my email addresses.
2. We HAVE NOT SPOKEN OR INTERACTED SINCE SEPTEMBER 2007.

Naomi.

How are you? Happy 2008.

I guess it's been a while. I left my record company in October. Been starting a company on my own, so I've been laying low.

It was great hanging out with you and you're a big part of why 2007 was so good. For what that's worth. Will never forget that sweater skirt your wore that night

chrz/douglas

Um, what? We went on two dates and then I was degraded--I didn't even LET him cum on my face. How could I make 2007 great?

And, ironically, I wore the "sweater skirt" to which he is referring on my date with the Photographer last night (and it is a sweater dress, for the record). Unfortunately, it didn't seem to have the same affect on him.

::Sigh::

We Don't Love Them Hos

Is it possible to be "dating" someone for less than a month and already be in a loveless marriage?

Seriously.

Last Sunday, I was at the home of a gentleman caller and we were watching "Entourage." We already seem to have a routine, though we've only gone out 5 times.

Actually, scratch that, we've gone out twice-- the last few "outings" have involved watching tv in his apartment, meaning that I've left my house, but he's pretty much stayed put.

I had seen him earlier in the day, so I just popped over with a pint of red wine sorbet (my new jam and jump off, you HAVE TO try it) and got settled in to watch a show about celebrities pretending to be celebrities and the wackiness they get into (it's very meta).

As we watch, the gentleman sprawls himself out on the couch and puts his legs over mine. I enjoy people who are oddly comfortable, and it's his house, so he can put his legs wherever he wants. After the show, he turns on a baseball game and begins staring at the screen in a trance.

Sports = ME BORED NOW. I start reading one of the many comic book magazines lying around (he works for the magazine-- he's not 14) and am ready to go home. When Vincent Chase is no longer on screen, I'm done (Adrien Grenier is a tall glass of soy milk-- he's so olive and yummy).

"I should go soon," I say to the 33-year-old baseball addict who "lives a healthy lifestyle" and sends me such text messages as "you love the jews, don't you?" and calls me "babe" unironically.

He does not move, he does not flinch, he does not look at me. Still staring at the TV, he responds with:

So, you wanna have a quickie?

I was so confused. "Huh? Are you talking to me?"

This man is soulless. He does not have a tender bone in his body. I think it's hilarious. I can say whatever, whenever, and he remains unphased. I don't know if he can handle Sojourner's truth so much as just accepts it.

I will never love him.


"Um, do you want to?" I say sarcastically, commenting on his less-than-enthused tone.

"Yeah, I think we should."

I think we should???? What does that mean? What is "should"? Are we a couple struggling desperately to conceive?-- methinks not. There is no "should," with Sojourner! Getting love from Sojo is something he WANTS. It's not like eating your vegetables or not kissing a swarthy Italian who works for Prada-- those are things you should do, but sometimes you just can't help yourself.

This is what came up when I did an interweb search for "loveless marriage." I totally feel like that lady, only I'm black--something that my "date" never ceases to let me forget.

I wouldn't mind being a loveless marriage with Adrien. I love that he just refuses to tame his wild eyebrows.